


Love Me Wrong

by Szaira



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Architecture student!Youngjo, Autumn love story, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szaira/pseuds/Szaira
Summary: For the future architect, every detail is important, and Youngjo can't afford to be mediocre.With fall, leaves change color, and he changes his priorities. Now the only details that matter to him are the softness of someone's lips and the hot breath on his neck.- Update probably in February! -
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ♡  
> As soon as I heard Love Me Wrong by Isak Danielson, a whole story immediately burst into my imagination. Originally it was supposed to be a one-shot, but I decided that by the time I finish it, it might already be spring, and nothing will be left of the autumn climate, so enjoy little chapters :) Light angst can happen, but don't worry, this story is meant to warm the heart!
> 
> A few announcements. English is not my first language, and I'm aware that there may be a lot of mistakes, so sorry for them. And the second one, of course, the characters in this story are just inspired by real people and have nothing to do with them.
> 
> I hope you will like it ♡

❈ _september morning_ ❈

Even though summer is just coming to an end, the sun is shining somehow like in autumn. Leaves swaying gently in the wind are still as green as they have been for the last months, and there is no indication that in a few days their dye will fade each day inevitably, decorating the trees with orange, yellow and brown. The landscape is complemented by the sky, which is evidently spring, clear and blue with fluffy white clouds formed in various shapes, flowing lazily ahead.

Youngjo takes a deep breath and feels fresh air filling each alveolus in his lungs. He loves the weather like that.

Thinking like runners and mothers with children in prams, as soon as he saw what the world looks like outside the window, he packed all the necessary things and set off to a park in the suburbs. It's already over the morning traffic jams, so he gets there quickly and obtains a satisfying view by spreading the blanket right over the pond. Next to the chosen place, a few children are feeding birds, laughing loudly, but it doesn’t matter for him. He knows that once he pulls out his sketchbook, he won’t pay attention to any other sounds.

The building he wants to draw is behind the pond, directly in front of him. Built many years ago in no way resembles those under construction today. Large shutters topped with arches, decorative columns, and numerous stairs leading to huge doors delight with splendor and elegance. Youngjo unfolds his pencil case, wondering how to properly shade the roof in black and white to give it the intense red that has been touched by the passage of time. He pulls up the sleeves of his favorite sweatshirt, and a moment later, the graphite soaks into the paper.

He has never had a problem with shading, but when he looks at the drawing after a while, the building seems flat. He tears out the page and starts again on the next one.

There are days when his pencil glides across the paper beyond his control, and before he realizes it, his work is done. And there are days when he has to think about every little move, and after making it, he is not satisfied with the result anyway. Youngjo stares at the paper in disbelief when he notices that this time the proportions have been disturbed. This day is definitely of the second type. He tears another page out of the sketchbook, crushing it and throwing it away.

“You're a perfectionist, aren't you?” 

Youngjo hears a voice behind him and turns so quickly that he overturns his pencil case, scattering the pencils across the blanket. He was so focused that he didn't hear anyone approach him, and in particular, he didn't hear a pretty blonde man in black pants and a black and white striped T-shirt, smiling broadly and so cute...

Before Youngjo can answer, he is right there and unfolds one of the paper balls lying on the blanket.

“Is it okay to waste paper? I think those drawings were also good,” the man says, pushing the pencils away and sitting down.

Youngjo's mind, torn out of concentration, works at full speed, trying to make meaningful comments on the words of the stranger, who carefully observes the work stroking the folds of the paper and frowning with interest.

“I don't want them to be good,” he explains, finally looking at him with narrowed eyes, “They must be perfect.”

The stranger bursts out laughing and Youngjo notices that he hasn’t heard anything so melodic and sincere for a long time.

“It must be hard to live like this,” the man states, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back. “Enjoy the shortcomings. They all have a story, don't you think? A gust of wind, hand tremors caused by too many loads the previous day. A flying bird that scattered you. I always think of it this way.”

What can be answered to such a clever statement? Youngjo thinks intensely, but his head is empty and filled with the echo of the laugh he just heard. The silence is prolonged, and only when he wants to open his mouth to make at least some indefinite sounds and interrupt it, he notices that the stranger distracted him so much that he didn't stop his persistently fighting habit and placed between his teeth the tip of the pencil he was holding.

“Yeah, I see you’re busy. I shouldn't have bothered you,” the man sighs, “I forget that although I come here to exchange a few sentences with someone, most people want to get away from the crowd and be alone for a while,” he says, getting up and brushing off the blades of grass that stuck to his clothes in some places.

Youngjo has always read a lot of books and believed that his vocabulary was rich, and when it was necessary, he was able to express himself in a dignified and eloquent manner. Now, however, when he sees from the man's behavior that their brief meeting is about to end, he can't remember any other words except a short 'no', which he can't say anyway.

“It was nice to meet you…?” the blonde man looks at him expectantly.

“Youngjo.”

His brain put its thinking on strike several minutes ago, so he is surprised that the larynx didn't fail him, and at last, he uttered the truest word.

“It was nice to meet you, Youngjo,” the stranger chuckles, “I’m Hwanwoong. And I'm sorry that I interrupted you. Good luck and have a nice day!”

Youngjo sees him turn on his heel and walk towards the path. In a moment, he will disappear from his sight, and Youngjo will go back to his drawing. He is almost sure that when he starts sketching again, it isn't even worth expecting that something other than undefined scribbles will be created on the paper.

In a moment, Youngjo will stay alone with his pencils and sketchbook. The kids will still make noise, the sky will stay blue, and he knows that he will regret it so badly for a long time.

Now or never.

“Wait! I was going to take a break anyway. Would you like to go for a coffee?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a great time writing this :)  
> There are a few comparisons in this chapter, but they aren't serious, so don't take them personally ♡

“It’s for you,” Youngjo says, putting a paper cup on the table in front of Hwanwoong.

He smiles in thanks as he embraces the cup in his hands. They covered the road to the cafe fast, and so far, Youngjo can't come out of surprise that the fact that they will sit down together at one table is his merit. His new interlocutor turned out to be very talkative, which made him content because just a second after offering coffee, he was paralyzed by the fear that there would be constant silence between them, and Youngjo would want to disappear.

“Tell me what you do for a living,” says Hwanwoong as soon as Youngjo sits down in the chair, “Or wait! I will try to guess myself,” he adds quickly with excitement.

“You can try.” Youngjo takes a sip of hot liquid and almost chokes when he hears Hwanwoong's first suggestion.

“You're an accounting student,” he says confidently.

“What? Why do you think so?”

“You look serious, you act serious. And a little withdrawn?” Hwanwoong looks at him, making sure he hasn't made him angry enough yet, and can continue. “But that's totally fine, I admire a lot. I avoid complicated calculations as much as I can,” he laughs, “Actually, it's a bit funny because of my job-”

“Where do you work?” Youngjo asks.

“First, I want to know something about you. You've said so little so far that if I met you in line at the grocery store tomorrow, I wouldn't recognize you by your voice at all. By your face, for sure, I think it will be hard to get its view out of my head,” he continues, ignoring the surprise he has caused at Youngjo, “Anyway, am I right?”

He finally picks up the cup to his mouth, and Youngjo stares at him with wide eyes. He was asked a question, that is for sure. But did he mishear, or did Hwanwoong really casually say that his appearance stuck in his mind? Did he get it wrong? He feels like a fool and, not knowing what to do with himself, decides that his throat is so dry that he needs to drink at this very moment.

Hwanwoong's eyebrows rise questioningly behind the mug, and as he pushes it away, Youngjo notices his contorted expression. Regretfully it makes him satisfied because he finds a focal point other than the mentioned queues and other uncomfortable issues.

“Don’t you like it?” he asks, trying to look sad. He can only hope that Hwanwoong will find his reddened cheeks a symptom of deep disappointment.

“To be honest, I don't really like coffee.”

“Are you serious? Why didn't you say it earlier?”

“Just because I didn't like it before doesn't mean I can't give it a chance today,” says Hwanwoong laughing as he sees how confused Youngjo is. “And I haven't had the pumpkin one yet. Well, it didn't captivate me.”

“I see,” Youngjo answers tapping his fingers on the cup impatiently. His fall with a rescue parachute lasted a few seconds. His lifeboat sank.

“I see that you see,” Hwanwoong bursts out laughing once again, and Youngjo feels his heart racing. Too much coffee. Two sips were way too much.

“Will you tell me or not?” Hwanwoong doesn't give up.

Youngjo knows that this is basic information if they want to learn more about themselves. Do they?

“You didn’t guess,” Youngjo answers, and Hwanwoong scowls, dissatisfied. Displeasure is a negative emotion, but Youngjo has never seen anyone cuter.

“Let me think… You surely don't study law. You wouldn't win a single court hearing by being as silent as you are now.”

Youngjo sighs. The defense is pointless. How would he explain that he normally has no problem with expression and would rather call himself the life of the party?

“Didn't you think that maybe I have already finished my education?” Unable to justify himself, he decides to attack and take control of the conversation, throwing Hwanwoong with questions.

“No?”

Youngjo opens his mouth and then closes it. Hwanwoong is right, even the innocent would be convicted if he represented them. “The answer is architecture,” he says.

“Really? How was I supposed to guess it?” Hwanwoong's surprise looks so sincere that Youngjo is almost able to believe it.

“Very funny.”

“It wasn't meant to be funny, I really wonder.”

“You approached me as I was sketching the building,” Youngjo says, confused. He can't read Hwanwoong and feels like he got lost in this conversation a long time ago.

“Exactly! Therefore, I rejected this possibility right away,” Hwanwoong leans back in the chair and suddenly comes intensely closer again, resting his elbows on the table and shaking everything on it. “Wait... Is this really how you spend your free time?”

“What's wrong with that? I like doing it, and I'm pretty good at it,” Youngjo pauses when he remembers how awful he was sketching today and wants to punch his forehead that he has just made Hwanwoong understand how low his standard must be since he used the phrase 'pretty good'.

“Nothing wrong, but it's kinda crazy? You're like a medical student watching House as part of rest,” Hwanwoong chuckles. He looks at his almost untouched drink and sways it, setting the liquid in motion as he talks more sadly than before, “I would like to be so fixated on one thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything and nothing, literally,” he answers, “I can't stand still, so I've tried almost everything, and I'm not good at anything. I wouldn't have a problem with that if it wasn't for the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with my life.”

Now it's not proper to remain silent, but Youngjo doesn't know how to comment on this confession and whether he should comfort him or somehow deny it. “A lot of people have this problem,” he ensures and immediately states that it wasn't the smartest thing he could say. All in all, he feels like he hasn't said anything smart since he saw Hwanwoong, and he has the theory that his brain cells must have melted.

“I know, and it's so nasty. While waiting for inspiration, I work temporarily in a bookstore,” Hwanwoong says, “I didn’t want to choose something at university that I’m not sure about. Everyone should do what they love and what they are good at.” He sets his cup down and looks at Youngjo seriously, “So keep it up, Youngjo.”

“Come on, today's sketches were terrible, I really can do better,” Youngjo says nervously, running his hand over his neck, “I have more and better works at home, I can show them to you if you want,” he ends, realizing that he has just invited Hwanwoong to his place, and his heart skips a beat.

“Really? I would love to see them,” he says, looking at his watch, “But unfortunately, I'm about to start my shift.”

“It's okay.”

“Give me your number, and I will text you when you can expect me,” Hwanwoong says, twirling and patting the pockets of his black pants.

“O-Okay?” Youngjo notices with horror that his tongue is paralyzed again so he takes a deep breath that luckily Hwanwoong doesn't spot. It will be only a few numbers. Just a few numbers…

“Finally!" Hwanwoong gushes, “I didn't take my phone, so write it here.”

On the table in front of Youngjo is an unfolded ball of paper with his lopsided drawing. And he doesn't ask any questions but takes a pencil from his bag and writes down what Hwanwoong asked him to do.

“Thank you,” says Hwanwoong, taking the piece of paper from him and folding it this time neatly. “And thank you for the coffee. I'm sorry but I haven't noticed that so long has passed and I have to go.”

“It’s okay.” On the one hand, Youngjo doesn't want the newly met man to go away, but on the other hand, he is sure that he won't say anything meaningful himself, and now, after giving his number, this conversation is doomed to failure.

“We will be in touch,” Hwanwoong smiles broadly as he rises from his chair and walks away, waving energetically at Youngjo, who mumbles something like a goodbye.

Youngjo puts his unfinished coffee next to Hwanwoong's.

He just invited him over. A coffee boost is no longer needed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go ~  
> Have a nice day/night! ♡

❈ _september evening_ ❈

Youngjo's head has never been free from questions. For a week, the question there has been only one and the same.

Is this a date?

All arguments coming to his mind prove that it will be an ordinary meeting. He met someone, they had fun talking, and a meeting has to be held to continue this acquaintance. The first shock quickly escaped the satisfaction that Hwanwoong came out with the initiative to see him again because after a short time spent in his company Youngjo was sure that such an offer wouldn’t go through his throat easily.

Even though he wanted it so much.

Theoretically, Hwanwoong didn't even have to be interested in him and his personality, but just in his passion and drawings. Or maybe he was just bored? Youngjo vaguely remembers mentioning something about seeking companionship. It is also possible that when he walked away, he tapped his hand on his forehead, wondering what he had just done. There are many reasons for one answer to this simple question.

The reason why meeting Hwanwoong on Saturday evening would be a date existed, but it was pushed aside by Youngjo, and he tried to keep it isolated so that it wouldn't take his rationality away.

He would love it to be a date.

Just thinking about the past short walk and coffee is enough to prevent him from focusing on his duties. Unfinished designs lie pushed to the edge of the desk, and design applications suspiciously don't want to load. For the last week, instead of books traditionally read in the evening, Youngjo has been using a sketchbook and trying to reproduce in the smallest detail remembered Hwanwoong's features, especially the most captivating ones - tiny nose and shapely dark eyes. Whatever the nature of this meeting, Youngjo is looking forward to it as he quietly hopes that the strange excitement felt in his stomach will finally subside, and he will be able to return to everyday life.

But when the hour suggested by Hwanwoong approaches, Youngjo ceases to wait for it inexorably.

The small studio in the city center shines with cleanliness, and Youngjo runs around with a cloth anyway and removes every tiniest trace of dust. He adjusts books on a bookcase and pillows on the couch only to realize in a moment that their arrangement may be nicer and neater, and change the concept again.

The question that bothers him creeps into every aspect of the preparations. When he opens the wardrobe, it turns out that no clothes are suitable for the 'maybe a date or maybe not' circumstances. He could dress elegantly and use the finest perfumes, but if Hwanwoong looks ordinary, more than likely, Youngjo will feel at least awkward. Finally, giving up and choosing a short-sleeved shirt with various graphics, he goes to the fridge to be even more scared by what he is supposed to prepare for eating. Hwanwoong can just come only for a moment on his way home from work, and a sumptuous dinner wouldn’t be suitable at all. Everything is possible as he texted Youngjo only an approximate time of meeting without additional information - most of all without information whether Youngjo can let his thoughts run wild or should he relax. He sighs and slams the fridge, stating that he will order whatever Hwanwoong will want.

The last place to check is the cause of all the fuss, which is the wall where Youngjo hangs his works. Now when he looks at them with a critical eye, he is not satisfied with them, but still, these paintings and sketches are better than what he created at the pond. He corrects all the slightly skewed ones and sighs again, but there is nothing he can do. He is not able to paint a dozen or so new works within days, let alone hours.

Stress and anxiety work like the best time machines and always just the opposite that it is needed, so Youngjo barely manages to blink, and it's time to see the cute blonde man from the park.

He looks around. Cookies are prepared on the table, and the music is playing softly in the background. Everything is in place.

The doorbell rings.

Youngjo feels his heart pounding in his chest like crazy as he makes his way towards the door and looks around nervously one more time. Cookies are prepared on the table…

Holding his breath, he opens the door and sees a small figure with a large plate in his hands.

“I baked muffins,” Hwanwoong says, giving Youngjo a package and going inside, “Nice to see you again,” he smiles broadly as he takes off his jacket and hangs it on a hanger.

“Oh,” a short sigh comes from Youngjo's mouth as the bundle is pressed into his arms, “Hi.”

Hwanwoong can't decipher Youngjo's expression and looks at him suspiciously. “They are with pumpkin. I'm not good at cooking at all, but I tried. Don't you like muffins?” he asks concerned, “I wanted to bring something, and you didn't tell me much about yourself, so I didn't know what you might like. Don't say you don't like sweets, please...”

Listening to Hwanwoong's explanation, Youngjo unpacks the package. The muffins are carefully wrapped to prevent being squashed, so he carefully removes the paper, taking care not to damage it himself. They are fluffy, slightly orange, and covered with shiny white frosting.

“They look delicious,” Youngjo says and finally looks at Hwanwoong intently.

The muffins look tasty and Hwanwoong just adorable, dressed in a white shirt and a dark sleeveless sweater with yellow and orange patterns. His disheveled blonde hair falls over his forehead, and the whole look is completed by golden glasses.

Youngjo is speechless. Few days of processing his appearance in memory and on paper weren't enough to get used to it, especially when right in front of his eyes, it is definitely more attractive and charming. During their brief meeting, he had no chance to memorize even how pleasing to the eye he was moving.

Seeing him, the excitement in the stomach doesn't diminish as expected. On the contrary, it extends to the chest now, making it difficult to speak. In order not to repeat the silence from his side like last time, he starts the conversation with the first topic that comes to his mind.

“Do you have a sight defect?”

Hwanwoong corrects glasses on his nose. “It's not big, but I want to see your drawings in full quality,” he laughs.

Youngjo shudders when after a week, he hears Hwanwoong's unforced laugh again and smiles himself. Neither the soft music currently playing in the background nor even Daniel Cesar on the headphones can match the melody of this sound. Subconsciously he realizes that he can listen to it for hours and do anything to cause it.

“You can easily be disappointed with this attitude.”

“I always prefer to set the bar high. Then even if I don't reach my goal, I'll still be somewhere high.” Hwanwoong states, sitting on the couch and stretching up, but after looking at surprised Youngjo he straightens up. “Okay, show them to me at last. I don't know why, but you look stressed out.”

Youngjo doesn't know either. He has completely no idea why he might seem nervous.

But Hwanwoog waits for him to move, so he has no choice but to lead him to the wall with his works.

There are not many of them, but at first glance, it can be seen that the hanged ones have been carefully selected, and Youngjo is of them the proudest. Among the simple graphite sketches, there are also paintings full of colors. Hwanwoong silently admires one by one in full concentration, stroking his chin with index finger and thumb.

Nature is everywhere. Paintings depict a silver moon, numerous trees, and the sky, blue as on a sunny day or shrouded in orange just like before the sun goes beyond the horizon, and others, in turn, clouds, views, and flowers. Hwanwoong doesn't ask any questions, so Youngjo remains silent, but when he turns around is clearly impressed.

“They are beautiful,” he says, pointing at the wall so that Youngjo can be sure that he means exactly his works, “I already know what you meant when you said you have better ones at home.”

“Thank you,” Youngjo feels his cheeks grow disturbingly warm, “But I don't think they-“

“I'm so glad you invited me,” Hwanwoong continues undaunted, and his entire speech strangely creates an intimate atmosphere around them. His tone of voice and the way he selects words make the air thicken like fog. “I was quite lucky to meet an artist who wanted to show me his talent. You are very inspiring, Youngjo.”

It is enough for Youngjo to take one step, and he will be right in front of him. After so many compliments, he is afraid of stuttering like last time, but he wouldn't even have to say anything. One step and answer to the question that bothers him will be at his fingertips.

When Hwanwoong wanted to leave him alone at the pond, he took courage and offered him a coffee. Now he will take one step and…

“This is so amazing!” Hwanwoong gushes, jumping towards the paintings on the other side of the wall at the moment Youngjo was setting his leg muscles in motion to cover the distance between them. “How could I have missed it before? It's definitely my favorite!”

Youngjo took Hwanwoong's place, and Hwanwoong is now right next to the painting of a cat against the dark night sky. His eyes shine in delight, and it seems that he didn't even notice that in Youngjo's eyes something died out.

“I have the impression that this cat is a reflection of you. Did I guess? Surreal self-portrait? Don't be so confused! It just has eyes as big as you, and overall it looks quite mysterious, like you…”

Youngjo sighs, “You like guessing, hmm?”

"Yeah, I'm curious, and I still don't know if it's an advantage or not," Hwanwoong chuckles, "But I like to discover things myself. Anyway, I'll tell you everything about me in a moment." He goes towards the couch and stretches out on it as before, grabbing on the way sweets from the table.

"Do you want a muffin?"

‧ ❈ ‧

Youngjo's hopes were shattered, but he still feels great with Hwanwoong and enjoys his company. He could confidently define meeting with him as one of the better twists of fate and one of the few cases where the first impression of the newly met person turned out to be correct. Hwanwoong proved to be the perfect listener and great conversationalist, and when the food they ordered arrived, even eating in silence was convenient for both of them. Youngjo slowly accepted the fact that he thought way too much, but he couldn't help as every minute of being with him led to his greater crush.

Hwanwoong laughs the sweetest, smiles the most beautiful, and even chews with such charm that Youngjo has to control himself in admiring him. It is painful for him, but he is aware that after this meeting, disappointment will overwhelm him with all his might.

Hwanwoong looks around the room and stretches. “It’s nice here,” he says, grabbing another muffin even though he has just sworn that he won't swallow even a bite more, “I'll visit you again if you don't mind.”

Youngjo turns to him, surprised. “Of course not.”

“I enjoy talking to you. You are completely different than me, but I still feel the thread of understanding between us,” Hwanwoong says, and Youngjo mentally tries to chase away the thickening air again. Now he knows that Hwanwoong, despite being wise and astute, doesn't pay the slightest attention to the tone of his speech and probably doesn't even suspect Youngjo of the hurricane of thoughts raging in his head when he starts talking like this.

“Yeah, maybe you’re-“

“Wait, I'm taking it back!” Hwanwoong interrupts him and grabs the decorated notebook from the shelf next to him that he has just noticed, “Do you keep a diary? I'm not going to open it, don't worry! I don’t move without a diary, so maybe it is our wanted common trait?”

“Writing is definitely not my cup of tea,” Youngjo answers, watching Hwanwoong as he puts the muffin aside to take a closer look at the potential diary, “It's a sketchbook.”

“Another one? Damn, you're really crazy about drawing,” Hwanwoong says as he opens the notebook without hesitation and flips through the pages causing the world around Youngjo to suddenly slow down.

Dark shapely eyes and a little nose. Soon Youngjo will have too blunt proof whether in his sketch he drew these features properly.

Without thinking too sensibly, he does the first thing that comes to his mind and rushes towards Hwanwoong while trying to tear off the notebook he is holding. Hwanwoong, not expecting such a turn of events at all, moves away on the couch as much as he can, automatically clenching his hands on the sketchbook, which makes Youngjo lose his balance and letting go of it as he falls on Hwanwoong, causing both of them to land between carefully arranged cushions.

Face to face.

And the world stops. Nobody moves, nobody says anything. The silence is so deaf that Youngjo hears his heart beating somewhere around his throat so loud that Hwanwoong must hear it too. His body is frozen, and his mouth opens unconsciously to make an excuse that doesn't exist. Youngjo stares into Hwanwoong's eyes, and the world shatters to pieces as Hwanwoong…

Kisses him.

Cautiously at first, he caresses him gently and exploringly, waiting for the kissed lips to react and give permission to continue. He isn't impatient and tastes them slow and kindly until Youngjo finally shakes off the deep shock and shyly reciprocates the tenderness that was offered to him. Kisses are innocent, and Hwanwoong tastes so sweet that Youngjo can't tell if it's because of the muffins or because he is damn cute himself.

Hwanwoong breaks the connection of their mouths and looks into Youngjo's eyes without a word, smiling sincerely. He releases one of his hands from their tangled bodies to take off the glasses and set them aside, and Youngjo uses this moment to get them into a more comfortable position. Sliding Hwanwoong over his chest is easy because of how light he is and how much he wants to be there. Their lips touch again, longing for each other after a momentary separation, and the present position is perfect for Youngjo to easily run his hand through Hwanwoong's soft hair. He doesn't owe him the touch and strokes his fingers on Youngjo's cheek, distracting him from tasting his lips.

And Youngjo doesn't want to be distracted. He wants to feel his touch and his body with all of himself, to remember the shape of his lips and the softness of his hair. Hwanwoong's breath is hot against his neck, and Youngjo can't believe this is really happening, but even if it's a dream, he just wants him closer. Youngjo's other hand slides on Hwanwoong's sweater down his back, pausing below the trouser belt and sliding a little between his legs to find a fulcrum and pull him higher.

He fits his arms perfectly.

Now their eyes are on the same level, so their lips give way their pleasure in favor of gazes filled with longing and delicacy. Words are not needed, and words are redundant when they reach an agreement by touch.

Hwanwoong removes Youngjo's hand from his hair and burns the fingers of their hands together. “You didn't plan on this, did you?” he whispers, and the warm air exhaled by him tickles Youngjo's ear.

“I didn’t.”

It's true. Youngjo craved it but had no idea that this evening would end like this.

Hwanwoong smiles at his reply, and in that smile, he kisses Youngjo again. Sensually like before but with a perceptible desire. Youngjo follows the rhythm of his lips, deepening the kiss as Hwanwoong moves away from him, and this time he smirks.

“I did,” he says and then takes Youngjo out of breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm on Twitter as @_szaira :3


End file.
